Diary of a Mad Black Woman
by S4ltv1n3g4r
Summary: Title explains it. Oneshots about everyone's favorite crazy villaness, Bellatrix Lestrange, ranging from humor to tragedy and everything in between. Chapter 7: Narcissa attempts to cheer up her sister, rather unconventionally...
1. Best Friends Forever

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise. A/N: So, this is just a bunch of Bellatrix oneshots, there will be parody, femslash, canon, weird stuff, whatever. Pretty much anything that's a oneshot.**

_"Where were you?" Alice's eyes grew wide with fear as Bellatrix asked the question. Bellatrix had cornered Alice in the corridor demanding an explanation as to why she hadn't been at the coffee shop during the Hogsmeade visit they had just returned from, Alice seeming rather joyful, Bellatrix exasperated. "Where were you?" she repeated._

_"Honeydukes," Alice answered timidly. Her eyes darted around helplessly, not daring to meet the intimidating gaze of an irritated Bellatrix._

_"Did you forget our plans? I set up a double-date with the Lestrange brothers. Rabastan was asking where you were, and I had to put up with __two Lestranges for half an hour before a fight broke out and everyone scattered!" She was breathing hard now and fuming; the snow on her robes seemed to melt spontaneously._

_"Where--where were __you?" Alice asked, trying her best not to sound like she was giving Bellatrix a challenge._

_"In the fight," Bellatrix admitted. "But that's not the point! Alice, you bailed on me! You just left me to do whatever--"_

_Just then, Frank Longbottom crossed the corridor, nodding at Alice and Bellatrix. "I had a great time today, Alice," he said. Bellatrix's eyes narrowed._

_"Frank Longbottom? __He is the reason for you completely abandoming me?" Bellatrix fumed in disbelief. Alice was __her friend. Mulciber, Avery, Nott, and Macnair could only give her so much, they shared her love for the Dark Arts and affinity for the quickly rising Lord Voldemort, but Alice, who knew nothing of her darker intentions, accepted her, in all her irritability and outbursts. She was smart, funny, and a Pureblood: what else could Bellatrix have asked for in a friend?_

_Perhaps a greater loyalty, she thought. Frank had turned the corner now, and Bellatrix had continued glowering at Alice, who was trembling in fear. The two of them had never had a fight before. "Bella, I really like Frank--"_

_"It's time for you to decide where your loyalties lie, Alice," Bellatrix spat, instantly regretting it. Had she really become so possessive of her friends? "I'm sorry," she muttered, before instantly regaining her angry tone. "But next time we have plans, you'd better show up." Alice's eyes were glued to the floor._

_"Bellatrix? You're not going to hurt me, are you?"_

_Bellatrix brushed a lock of vision-obscuring hair out of her eyes in disbelief. "Why would I di that?" she asked._

_"I saw you performing the Cruciatus Curse on Davies--"_

_Bellatrix nodded, recalling fondly the first time she had used the curse, lucky to have not been expelled, let alone arrested. Davies had writhed and screamed horribly, and Bellatrix had let out a snicker: he wasn't going to insult her friend Alice again anytime soon. _I did it for you_, she comtemplated saying, but thought better of it, as her friend would hardly approve of such methods. "You're my best friend. I would never hurt you," she said, slipping back into the present. She held out her hand and stroked Alice's adorably round cheek, watching a single tear fall from her eye, and the two of them embraced like sisters._

Times had changed. Bellatrix used to think she needed a friend who could at least act like she could understand her, but now, there was nothing to understand. People debated whether there had ever been. Bellatrix had new friends now, more powerful friends, or at least, she did until just recently. The Dark Lord had fallen, but it was only a matter of time before his rise to power again, and Bellatrix had never been one to sit around and let others have the so-called fun: she, her husband, and brother in law had set out to restore their lord, but first, they needed information, and, conveniently enough, they were able to find Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom.

"Enough with the technicalities," Bellatrix insisted as the three of them were barely ten paces away from the door. Rodolphus and Rabastan were consulting plans they had drawn up, but Bellatrix was eager to proceed. She didn't think as she rapped a twitchy fist on the door before blowing it into a million splinters that stuck into the fibers of her hooded cloak; it was common courtesy, after all.

"What do you want with us?" a familiar voice demanded. "Stay away from my family!"

"_Crucio!_" Bellatrix shrieked, her mind descending into chaos as she aimed her curse at the man. She wanted one thing and one thing alone, to bring Voldemort back to power, because once he was on top again, she would be powerful, too. Her twisted logic made the connection that by torturing Frank Longbottom, she could achieve her ends, and even if this wasn't so, she would still relish his screams. An infant wailed in the next room. "Tell me the whereabouts of the Dark Lord!"

"Neville!" Frank screamed desperately, barely able to hold onto conciousness. The infant wailed harder.

"Hey, I think he likes it," Rabastan remarked cruelly, covering Alice with his wand. Bellatrix kneeled beside Frank, running a sharp, jagged fingernail along the side of his face.

"You were never anything but a wedge," she drawled. "A wedge between me and my friend..." She said no more as she cast curse after horrible Cruciatus curse on him, but did more thinking than she usually did on these occasions. What if she and Alice _had_ stayed friends? Would she have been able to persuade Alice to follow her down the path to domination? Would they be Voldemort's favorites, together, torturing some other couple side by side on this night? Or would Bellatrix have been turned toward the light, just as Alice had, secured into a future of fighting _against_ the darkness? "I suppose it was for the best," she said, leaning closer. "Which is why I'm sparing your life." She smacked Frank hard across the face, and Alice let out a shrill scream as Bellatrix threw her head back with laughter, causing her hood to fall back and reveal her face.

"Bellatrix?" she shrieked.

"Yes?" Bellatrix asked, beckoning her husband and his brother away from the terrified woman: she wanted to cast the first curse. Alice seemed to be tearfully debating herself on the inside, something Bellatrix could never bring herself to do for more than a few seconds. At last, she looked Bellatrix straight in the eyes.

"Best friends forever, Bella." Bellatrix only scoffed in a quite deranged manner. She didn't know what to say. Alice was below her now, and if she did waste syllables on this creature, however, she would say that she had better friends, that she _herself_ was a better friend, and she would never be such a bed friend as Alice had been, holding no respect for the amount of influence her family had on the wizarding world. She was loyal, devoted, and torturing the inhabitants of the house out of devotion for her master, her Dark Lord, her _best friend forever_. Instead, she held out her wand, revoking the promise she'd made so many years ago, determined to hurt Alice to any extent to obtain the wherabouts of the Dark Lord.

"_CRUCIO!_ Now tell me where the Dark Lord is! What's happened to him?" Alice shook her head sadly, her eyes assuming a glazed look.

Perhaps if it had been someone other than Bellatrix, Alice could have accepted it. Perhaps she would have handed over the information and stopped pretending she wasn't being tortured, and maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have cracked. But, as it was, Alice and Frank were both insane to some degree and completely incapable of telling Bellatrix a thing, so she and her cronies walked back through the shattered doorway, barely aware of the Aurors surrounding the house. All hope seemed lost, and, as the condition of the Dark Lord was uncertain, so was everything else. Everything else but the one wisp of hope, a single shred of sanity Bellatrix had to hold on to:

"THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN! THROW IS INTO AZKABAN, WE WILL WAIT!"

* * *

A/N: So, how did I do on my first oneshot? Please review! 


	2. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise. This used to be its own sepatate story, but, since it's about avenging Bella, I put it here.  
**

Bellatrix Lestrange was fiery, ambitious, devoted, driven, and, above all, a maniac. Into everything she did, she poured her heart and soul, and though she never knew love in which power wasn't a factor, she lived with a passion that was uncommon even amongst the most fanatical of Death Eaters. So, it was only natural that her avenging should commence with a bang.

Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange found no problem in capturing Molly Weasley while she was doing her shopping one afternoon. She, like everyone else, thought she was safe, that all of the Death Eaters had been rounded up and the Wizarding World need not worry anymore...oh, how mistaken she had been. Bound and gagged instantly by magic, she fought and struggled, but was completely helpless as the Lestranges Apparated out of sight, arriving in the cellar of an old, abandoned shop in Knockturn Alley.

Rabastan cast a quick Silencing Charm around the area so that no one would happen to crash their little party, not that anyone was actually in the street. After the victory of Harry Potter just a few days ago, it was a rather dead giveaway to be caught buying Dark artifacts.

Rodolphus removed the gag in Molly's mouth: to better hear the screaming, he'd told his brother. Molly had cringed with a feeling of utter dread, unable to Apparate away as Rabastan had her by the back of her robes. "_Crucio!_" Rodolphus cried, pointing his wand at her and relishing her grunts of pain that rapidly turned to screams. She fell over, still bound tightly in ropes which allowed for little pain-easing movement, and continued to writhe and scream, unable to speak. "_Crucio!_" into each of Rodolphus's curses, he poured enough hatred for himself and Bellatrix combined. How she would have loved to be there, her laughter echoing off the walls almost as loudly as her victim's screaming, taking pure joy in the torture as the two brothers got in a curse or two, but mostly watched, mistaking Bellatrix's acts of terror and insanity for a something beautiful, like a dance accompanied by the notes of cruel cackling.

The thought of Bellatrix brought tears to Rodolphus's eyes, and he was only barely able to pass them off as a side-effect of some twisted form of happiness. He found himself remembering the day they had tortured the Longbottoms together, how she had been so full of the life that his own torture victim of current times had taken from her, the life that she poured into her duties as a Death Eater, into her Dark Lord. _Where was I?_ Rodolphus asked himself. Obviously, he had been in the room beside her, cursing Frank out of conciousness as Bellatrix drove the last remains of sanity from Alice. But he was nowhere in her heart. He was laughing with her, but she was laughing only with Voldemort.

Rabastan opened his mouth to say something, but Rodolphus hit Molly with another torture curse, and his words were lost in her fresh screams which she struggled to stifle, but to no avail. He could curse her forever, but subjecting her to the physical manifestation of his inernal pain did nothing to ease his grief. He hated her, he despised her for killing his beloved wife, and, of all things, being a blood-traitor, and he also hated the fact that a blood-traitor of all people had killed his wife, but the surge of ecstacy that usually came when he tortured Mudbloods and blood traitors with Bellatrix and Rabastan never came. Any normal person would have let her go at this realization, or, better yet, not have taken her captive in the first place, but Rodolphus Lestrange, being of flawed reasoning and no one to give him orders, quickly decided to do away with his prisoner after only a few minutes: it just wasn't any fun without Bellatrix.

"Any last words?" he asked. Molly's breathing was heavy and labored, the ropes binding her adding to her discomfort. In addition to flaming red hair, red blood trickled from her forehead in the place where she'd struck the ground. Only after several last grunts of pain was she able to speak through pained sobs.

"Have you no heart?" she asked softly.

"Silence!" Rabastan shouted, but Rodolphus cut him off.

"Now's not the time, Rabastan. It'll all be over in a few moments," he said, turning back to Molly, pointing his wand at her with indifference. "Please do continue."

"Please, please spare me," she croaked. She was begging. And with no hope that her pleas would be taken into consideration, too, yet she still begged. Pathetic. "Please, don't kill me. I have a family. Seven...six children," she corrected herself. "Please, I'm begging for them, not myself. What about family?"

_What about family?_ Rodolphus asked himself. Bellatrix had been _his_ family, even though their relationship had been cold, or remotely friendly at the most; Bellatrix adored her Dark Lord far too much to be bothered with affection to mere men, even ones that admired her with a burning passion. Even Rabastan, who had been watching this entire time, who hadn't been able to get one Cruciatus Curse inflicted onto the woman who was supposed to be captive to the both of them, had a stronger relationship with Bellatrix than Rodolphus himself had. the two of them, Bellatrix and Rabastan, had been just like brother and sister, even though they were only inlaws. He had learned a multitude of curses from her, and admired her just as much as her husband had, if not more, even though only platonically. He had done most of the watching when the three Lestranges embarked on their rampages of torture, and even now, he glumly watched as his oppurtunities slipped away. Without explanation, Rodolphus muttered, "You're right."

Molly's fearful and devastated expression was replaced with one of relief, though her emotions were short-lived, for less than a second later, he said, "Rabastan, why don't you do the honors?" He handed his wand to his brother, even though said brother could have used his own, but viewed it as a gesture of goodwill. Rabastan's eyes welled with tears.

"Really?" he asked, overjoyed: his brother had never before asked him to do something like this, as he had been somewhat of a victim-hog. Nodding, Rodolphus placed his wand in Rabastan's hand, and as Molly realized that the Lestranges had horribly misinterpreted her lecture of desperation, Rabastan raised the wand and slashed it through the air and screamed, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

A blinging flash of green light and lifeless _thud_ later, Rabastan was still sobbing tears of joy. He had sunk to his knees and Rodolphus had to drag him to his feet, saying, "Come on, brother, let's go home," but not before applauding loudly. Still completely dazed, Rabastan leaned on his brother as the two of them ambled out of the cellar, exchanging twisted, psychotic smiles. This was what it meant to be a Death Eater: taking vengance, and Rabastan couldn't have been more satisfied, as he'd just avenged his dear sister Bellatrix Lestrange.


	3. House of Insane

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. Yay for some actual humor!**

It was quiet. Too quiet, if you happened to be anyone near the staircase of Black Manor who was not Bellatrix Black, who had put a silencing charm around said staircase in order to keep from being found. You see, Bellatrix and her sisters were playing hide-and-seek, and she found that, laying flat on her stomach on the landing with her face covered by her hair so that she blended in with the carpet while peering over the stairs and using a Silencing Charm so as to not let anyone hear even a slightest breath from her general direction, she was virtually impossible for her shorter sisters to find.

"Bella, you can come out! I found 'Dromeda!" Narcissa called, and Bellatrix muttered "_Finite_" as she hopped down the stairs.

"Hey, you can't use magic!" Narcissa jealously reminded her sister, who had just come back from her first year at Hogwarts and was rather enjoying showing off at each opportunity.  
Bellatrix smirked in reply. "Let's play a different game," she suggested.

Andromeda came skipping into the hall, eyes wide with eagerness. "Oh, I know!" she piped up, "Let's play house!" Bellatrix tilted her head in confusion.

"What's that?"

"It's when you pretend to be a family. Muggle children do it all the time." Andromeda beamed as Narcissa began to nod, though glancing sideways at Bellatrix for approval, who snickered.

"That's so...Muggle," she said, apparently thinking her sister couldn't be serious, though Andromeda had always had a soft spot for what her family referred to as filth. "Hey, I have an idea!" she sputtered with sarcasm and feigned enthusiasm. "Let's play 'Ancient and Most Noble House of Black!" Though she was far from serious, Narcissa and Andromeda seemed to have taken to the idea and were nodding with _genuine _enthusiasm, Narcissa declaring that she would like to play the role of her mother. "Wait, guys, I wasn't being serious," she rushed out.

Narcissa laughed gleefully. "Funny joke, Bella," she said. _Great,_ Bellatrix thought. _When I'm being sarcastic, they take me seriously, and when I _want_ to be taken seriously, they take me Siriusly._

"Fine then, I get to be 'Meda," Bellatrix decided. Her sisters didn't acknowledge the wide and calculating smile on her young features, but she was already hatching a scheme: not a complicated one, but one that would make her sister regret her moment of Muggle-embracing idiocy.

"I'll be you then," Andromeda decided, imitating Bellatrix's disturbing smile, but not quite mastering it. On the smaller, brown-haired girl, it looked comical at the most. "Wait, should we ask her to play with us?" she asked, pointing at a girl a few houses down who was sitting in her front yard alone, plucking out shards of grass and shredding them with her nails. Bellatrix knew the girl's name, she was Alecto Carrow and had a brother named Amycus, but this was as much as she knew about the family who lived in the house, and dared not mix with them until she had found out whether the girl was pureblood, halfblood, mudblood, or Muggle.

"No," Bellatrix decided, knowing that, as the eldest, she would have the final say in this matter, if being forced to play Andromeda's stupid Muggle game, although it might not be so purposeless for what she had planned. "Hi, I'm Andromeda!" she started, picking up the concept of roleplaying very quickly. "I love all the little animals and Muggles in the village! I especially love Muggleborn boys, they're so handsome, I just want to go over and snog that one!" she continued in an annoyingly high voice, beckoning to the house a few blocks down where the Tonkses lived.

"I'm Bellatrix," Andromeda announced, catching on with a scowl. "This concept you normal humans call 'happiness' confuses and enrages me! In fact, I'm going to go rampaging about the neighborhood, kicking people in the shins!" She cackled evilly and threw her head back, but it was promptly smacked back into place by Narcissa, armed with a metal pail.

"She only did that one time!" Narcissa defended as Bellatrix looked on with curiosity and enthusiasm. "STOP--MAKING--FUN--OF--BELLA!" Narcissa continued to take mis-aimed whacks at Andromeda with the bucket until logic intervened...

"Cissy, I'm Bella. You're supposed to hit Andromeda," Andromeda reasoned, dodging blows while pointing at Bellatrix, who had begun to sing to a grasshopper with a simpering, sickening grin. Narcissa blinked a few times with her mouth agape, then proceeded to hit Andromeda, who began to shriek as she fought back, the scuffle quickly shifting into the middle of the street.

"Mum, Bella, stop fighting!" Bellatrix pleaded, running into the street after her sisters while still impersonating Andromeda. "You're going to scare the Muggles!" Her lower lip quivered as she drew fake tears with ease, having had experience in utilizing the 'puppy-dog' face: after all, Muggles didn't tend to be forgiving after being kicked in the shins. Narcissa giggled with joy at Bellatrix's false show of emotion, but Andromeda screamed and ran back to the sidewalk. Bellatrix realized she should have took the hint and run, for as she stood in confusion as to what had caused this new havoc, she saw a Muggle contraption, a heap of metal emitting brownish exhaust, getting struck by the minivan a second later.

Bellatrix grunted in pain as she fell, she didn't think she had been injured badly, as she'd attempted to conjure somewhat of a shield, but she was still unable to stand, so she merely allowed herself to roll across the street, groaning as the Muggle yelled something and made a very rude hand gesture at her from the automobile. The black of her hair now mixed with the red of her blood, and Andromeda and Narcissa rushed to her aid, their babbling incoherent. Not so incoherent, however, was the loud shrieking of another girl: "How--DARE--you! You filthy Muggle! How dare you treat a member of a prestigious wizarding family that way! You're nothing but scum, you FILTHY, HORRIBLE--" Instead of finishing her sentence, Alecto Carrow unearthed the nearest fist-sized rock and hurtled it at the windshield of the slow-moving car with as much force as her small, stocky body could exert. Bellatrix opened her eyes slightly, following the bleary outline of Alecto back to her yard. The girl was stomping back to her own yard in a huff, while Bellatrix's lips cracked into a smile. Whatever the child's blood was, she had risked exposure to get back at a Muggle for running over and subsequently disrespecting her, Bellatrix. She gingerly got to a sitting position, feeling the blood of her bleeding head with her hand, spilled blood that Alecto would throw rocks for. Surely she was a pureblood witch, to do such a thing, but Bellatrix thought her actions quite noble, if not amusing, either way, and though little Alecto had more than earned a friend.

"Hey Alecto!" Bellatrix called after Alecto in a hoarse shout, "Wanna play house?"


	4. Great Rewards

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.  
**

Lord Voldemort dined alone in a private but lofty room in whicever manor the Death Eaters happened to be staying in. His presence was welcomed by few in Malfoy Manor, as many were merely acting on his orders out of fear. Bellatrix Lestrange frowned upon the likes of these people, reaping every small and exhilarating pleasure from the presence of her Dark Lord. With every curt nod of acknowledgement to her, she felt her heart skip a beat, and at these moments, she realized that it had still been beating at all. She did, in fact, still have a reason to stay alive, besides all the exciting but superficial joys of Muggle hunting and rampages. She loved him unconditionally, knowing he would never love her in return, and in case she ever did want him to, even for a brief moment that could (and might be) her last, she had taken the necessary measures to ensure that this would be possible.

On rare occasions, Lord Voldemort would ask his most devoted lieutenant to dine with him, and during the time the Death Eaters were based at Malfoy Manor, he chose to invite her into the study where he would be eating. "My Lord," she gasped in gratitude, but he held up a silencing finger, leading her to the other side of the mansion and through a door, which he proceeded to lock.

At this point, most reasonable people would begin to suspect foul play, but Bellatrix, like anyone in love, was not a reasonable woman. She proceeded to accept the sickly-tasting, deep red wine he offered her with not so much of a wince. It had the color and consistency of blood and most people would revolt at the sight of it, but Bellatrix accepted, as she would accept anything from Lord Voldemort. The food was no better, dry and tasteless, and her goblet was refilled with what she suspected was snake milk, but again, she had no objection. The occasional, quieted utterance of "My Lord" issued across their table, and, finally, Voldemort looked up at her, penatrating her dark eyes with his own red ones, red for power, strength, and blood.

"Bella." She'd gotten what she wanted. The Dark Lord never spoke a word to her on their brief suppers together other than stating her name. She nearly hyperventilated; it was the most beautiful sound she could have heard. This time, however, there was not calm appreciation in his tone, but accusation, and what's more, he continued speaking. "My most faithful servant...never have you denied your loyalties." Bellatrix's expression was still one of glazed admiration, drinking in her master's cold voice like snake milk: it sounded like a threat was soon to come, but it was from him, and therefore she took it with appreciation, even obsession. "And would I be correct in saying that you, Bella, have never lied to me?"

At once, Bellatrix snapped into a state of alertness. "M-my lord -- n-never," she stuttered. "I work for your noble cause, I've devoted my life to you--"

"That's enough, Bella," Voldemort snapped. Bellatrix jumped in her seat as he rolled a vial of clear liquid toward her. "What is this?"

For the longest time, she was silent. She had never lied to her lord, and she wasn't going to start now, but she dared not reveal that the vial now laying before her contained a love potion. "Where--where did you--?" she stammered.

"Your quarters. Do not deny your cononsiderations of using this on me. Lord Voldemort always knows."

"I--" Bellatrix began to protest. Was it a sin to want to be loved, she wondered. Tears began to stream down her face, falling in heavy drops to the floor, to which her eyes were shamefully glued. "I might've considered it, yes," she choked out.

"I should torture you for this." Bellatrix's tears becams sobs, as she couldn't deny the truth of his statement.

"I'm sorry, My Lord," she said with a tremor in her voice, sinking out of her seat and to her knees. "I've...I've failed you..."

"No." Voldemort said, the accusation in his voice slackening. He strode over to Bellatrix and tilted her head back into place so that she was looking him in the face by means of the Imperius Curse. Tears still poured from her dark eyes, and if shining black hadn't been forced to meet startling crimson, she couldn't have brought herself to look at him.

"Stop crying." Her sadness and disgust with herself remained, but with a fimal gasp her sobs cut off. "Lord Voldemort rewards his followers. You, Bella, have been faithful, you have never renounced the old ways...I don't beileve you would ever intend to cause me distress...tell me, Bella, what would you do if I performed the Cruciatus Curse on you?"

"Scream," Bellatrix replied shakily. Her voice was hollow now, her body becoming tense, waiting to be punished.

"Really?" Voldemort inquired. "This will not have been the final straw? You will not seek vengance? It will not turn you against me?" Bellatrix shook her head vigorously. "You are faithful. Lord Voldemort rewards his followers. Give me the potion, Bella."

Bellatrix gaped in shock. She couldn't be hearing correctly. Her eyes widened, unable to take in what she was hearing. Perhaps she was underestimating herself, she dared ponder: she was Voldemort's most faithful Death Eater, and the rewards he offered were great...

"Give me the potion," he repeated impatiently. "_Imperio!_" Her shaky hand was forced to drop the vial into the Dark Lord's hand. He strode over to his meal again and uncorked the vial, pouring its contents into his drink.

That evening was artificial, induced, fake. The Dark Lord would never love Bellatrix, though he kissed her passionately and whispered words of affection in her ear. She held him in return, responding to his needs, rather distraught by the reversing of power between the two. Before long, the two of them were lying on the floor and staring at the cieling, breathing hard and barely clothed. Voldemort cupped Bellatrix's hand in his own, letting her feel his warmth against her skin. It was rather uncharacteristic of him, and, without warning, Bellatrix began crying again. Something still didn't feel right: she would have accepted this, or anything, for that matter, from the Dark Lord, but this wasn't the Dark Lord she was sleeping with, but a product of a love potion.

He'd taken the potion willingly, she reminded herself. _For her._ As her crying ceased, she was grateful he hadn't noticed it and continued to run a hand along the side of her body. He'd done it for her. _Maybe,_ dictated the most miniscule and feeble ray of hope, _he did care for her after all._

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for my prolonged abscence, everyone, I just started high school. Please review!**


	5. Bellatrix Wreaks Havoc on the Enterprise

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. Thanks for all your reviews, people. This one's for the Trekkies. Hooray for horrible parody crossovers.  
**

"_CRUCIO_!" she screamed, holding a long, dark, wooden stick out in front of her: some sort of primitive phaser, perhaps? She was peculiar in every sense, from her name (Bellatrix Lestrange), to her clothes (long, black robes), right down to the way she fought, shouting incantations and laughing cruelly at her victim's shrieks of pain. Perhaps the most peculiar thing about this Bellatrix woman was, in fact, that her victim, Reginald Barclay, was shrieking in pain at all: he'd thought he had set the safeguards on in the Holodeck which he now occupied, but, apparently this program had been allowed to cause him pain, and he writhed limply in submission, too weak to call for the arch.

Apparently, Data had programmed this woman into the Holodeck, but Reginald found that rather hard to believe. Bellatrix was probably the product of a young Wesley Crusher having had too many drinks in Ten-Forward and spontaneously decided to do something rash and help the engineer conquer his Holodeck obsession. How her programmer had gotten her to actually inflict pain upon her victims was a mystery. Far from his usual programs of beautiful women, Bellatrix posed a significant threat, considering she was a program, but Barclay found himself noticing that she was indeed beautiful. She was nearly too much for his eyes to take in, and this was not only because they were slitted in pain. Her deep onyx hair danced with her movements as she held the peculiar wooden phaser above her head and said the word, 'crucio', over and over again, her heavily hooded eyes adding cruelty to her smirk. She appeared refined and aristocratic, but she was really a nightmare, though Reginald's mind had already numbed to her persistant torture, and he found himself intrigued between experiences of stabbing pain, the invisible knives becoming less and less jagged each time. Perhaps she was tiring of his agreeability?

When at last she paused whatever she was doing to him, he rasped, "Com-computer, end p-p-program." The dark corridor disappeared and the yellow grid materialized on the black walls, black as the woman's hair, her soulless eyes, her flowing robes, as she walked out the sliding doors. Reginald shook his head vigorously and widened his eyes in disbelief. _Bellatrix Lestrange had left the Holodeck._ No, not Bellatrix, he reminded himself. The _program_ designated 'Bellatrix' had left the Holodeck. The _freakish, otherworldly_ program who had screamed at him for hours, detaining him and torturing him while asking about some sort of war and a Dark Lord.

"What _was_ that?" Barclay whispered to himself, struggling to regain his footing. He wished he'd left the program running, as he could use something to help him to his feet. He continued to lay limply on the ground and stared at the yellow grid, wondering about Bellatrix still. She was horrible...wasn't she? She made him feel as though he was getting operated on while concious the way they used to do it in the twentieth century. Yet, not unlike the rest of his Holodeck women, she was intriguing, and he couldn't deny he wanted to see her again--after he tinkered a bit with her programming, that is.

Reginald had stood up now, and was contemplating the problem of getting Bellatrix back onto the Holodeck if she had indeed left. Perhaps beyond the door lay the rest of the actual Holodeck, and the grid-covered room he now stood in was just another replicated room: it certainly wouldn't have been the first time.

"Lieutenant?" sounded a voice from beyond the Holodeck door, making Barclay jump. Commander Data had stepped onto the yellow grid, Tricorder in hand. "Lieutenant Barclay, it appears we have a situation. A Sick Bay patient has escaped. She is possibly unstable and carrying an unidentified weapon."

"A Sick Bay...what?" Barclay asked. His head was throbbing as he spun around to face Data, who was remarkably unfazed.

"She was found injured on a Class-M planet near a spacial anomaly. She has been identified as Bellatrix Lestrange." Data continued to explain.

"SHE'S REAL?" Barclay spat, utterly flabbergasted, his mind racing backward in time to the darkly clad woman who was causing him such pain.

Data asked for no explanation, but only continued to brief the lieutenant on the situation. "It seems that the Borg and Starfleet are not the only ones who have experienced shifts in time. We estimate that she came from late 20th century Earth. Dr. Crusher determined that she's functioning on a more advanced level than most humans of her time period."

Reginald took in a minimal amount of what Data was saying. He looked from Data to the Holodeck control panel to out the door, stepping out into the corridor and looking left and right. "D-Data?" he stuttered nervousy, cringing with fear and feeling confusion.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I think she's loose on the ship."

Data took a second to contemplate the words of the Master of the Obvious. With a remarkable lack of concern, he affirmed, "It would appear so."

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**A/N: I was contemplating making this a full-length Bella/Barclay parody story, but that would be way too weird and I haven't got the time. If I've driven you mental with this, I've done my job. Next chapter parodies plot devices from Family Guy. I WILL make it to 100!**


	6. CATFIGHT!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter and Family Guy are not mine. OOC and weird parodyness await you! Did anyone else notice the Family Guy parallels in the Molly-Bella battle? Remember, from that episode where Peter acts like a chick...?**

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

It was not uncommon to hear cursing on the battlefield. Everything was dirty: the ground, smeared with blood and worse substances that no one dared question; the skies, blurry and obscured with curses, and the sound, tarnished by nasty curse words left, right, and center. Conceivable as it was, Arthur Weasley couldn't help but be shocked at the source of the swearing: his wife.

If he'd seen what happened, he'd have been swearing, too. But, as it was, he hadn't seen Ginny miss death by an inch, and he was now witnessing exactly what was happening: two women were fighting. He attempted to rush to the aid of his wife, but his legs were cemented to the ground: he had always had a weakness for catfights.

"_Crucio!_" Bellatrix began shouting, this being her first defensive reflex. Arthur was not impressed: _It's always CRUUUCIOOO and IMPEEERIOOO and AVAADAAA KEDAAAVRAAA with them, isn't it? Those Death Eaters really should go back to torture school._

Molly, it seemed, was now just as intent on killing as Bellatrix. She was flinging deadly hexes at her opponent, her hair flying, shouting furiously obscenities that should never be mentioned in public. It was apparent that both women were fighting to kill. Molly screamed as a curse missed her head just as it had done Ginny's. Arthur knew he had to intervene, but he was still frozen in place, incapable of action and all logical thinking.

Neither Molly nor Bellatrix seemed to experience any type of draining effect caused by the battle. On the contrary, they were each firing curses with increasing rapidity, the battle growing more intense with each passing second. Bellatrix shrieked with glee as her Cruciatus Curse soared toward Molly, but was let down as it missed by inches. "What are your children going to do when I kill you?" she mocked. "Once Mummy's gone the same as Freddie?"

"YOU--WILL--NEVER--TOUCH--OUR--CHILDREN--AGAIN!" Molly hissed with rage, advancing on Bellatrix with a fresh flow of illegal and rage-filled curses. Then, in a flash of blinding light and baffled screaming, both women were disarmed simultaneously.

The witch with the knowledge of wandless magic would be the victor of the battle, or so it seemed. Yet, somehow, in the broken train of thought of a woman who was exhausted to the point of madness nearly beyond that of her Death Eater opponent, it was no longer worth bothering with wands. Molly sprang upon Bellatrix like a tiger towards its prey, landing squarely on top of the Death Eater and throttling her with vigor. Bellatrix, responding to her attacker's weight on top of her, flipped the battle over so that she had Molly in a chokehold. Arthur was beginning to sweat.

The battle rolled on, quite literally. In between Bellatrix being on Molly and Molly on Bellatrix, the scuffle had attracted a crowd of spectators. The Weasley children, like their father, were watching in awe, though it was quite a different type of awe. They were fighting...like Muggles!

Catfight...catfight...Muggle catfight...catfight like the way Muggles do it...thoughts of catfights and Muggles reverberated through Arthur's mind as though it was inside a metal chamber. Then, as if they were trying to make him faint, in their rolling flurry of fists, kicks and swear words, Bellatrix pushed Molly into a fountain, being pulled in herself: they were now thoroughly soaked. Molly was screaming, Bellatrix was grunting with determination, both of them took their turns pinned underneath the other, and, suddenly and to a chorus of gasping--

Bellatrix's robes were torn from the top of her body! A mere few threads kept her clothing secured overtop her undergarments.

The battle's unspoken rules now allowed for the use of teeth, as Arthur observed. Just as Molly, on top now, seemed favored to be the victor, the sight of exposed, slippery flesh snapped something in Arthur's brain...

Both women were barely clothed and badly bruised. Molly was winning, but either could have triumphed. could have, if Arthur hadn't run into the skirmish, grabbed onto a snarling witch's wrist, and Apparated away with a shout of, "We have to go, dear."

No one will ever know if he meant to grab Molly or if his abduction of Bellatrix was no mere accident. The outcome of this act was also unknown and unrecorded in Wizarding history, but from minimal evidence, it will suffice to say that that evening could be summed with three things:

Screaming.

Moaning.

And shrieks of, "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH THAT PLUG?"

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A/N: Whew! I finally got this finished! I know it's not long, but it's been in my head for a while, and, well...you just had to see that episode of Family Guy. Review!


	7. Buttpainting the Porch

**Disclaimer: I own nothing in the following thingymabobber. Sorry for not updating, as I said, I'm going to be busy and from now until summer all my updates are slow. But I'm in a writey mood and decided to put this down, so I hope it doesn't weird you out too bad.**

It wasn't that young Bellatrix Black was having a bad day, or even a bad week. She had had a bad _year_, and, she realized as she stepped off the Hogwarts Express, it was only going to get worse.

Society had played her a terrible trick. Rather than the special treatment she was entitled to, she had endured fear and disapproval of her family's reputation, most of which were subjective or completely unfounded: it's not as though Aunt Elladora was being unreasonable in attempting to make Muggle-hunting legal, and besides that, the Blacks were not the only family with a cousin no one ever talked about.

Little Andromeda, ever the albino black sheep, was hardly helping, arguing with Bellatrix all the way home about how 'we really ought to open our eyes sometime soon' and 'they had a perfectly good reason for kicking Aunt Elladora off the Wizengamot.'

"Dromeda, shut up" was not enough to quiet the girl, but saying it made Bellatrix feel marginally better as she crossed the threshold of her family's manor, Andromeda and silent, wide-eyed Narcissa in tow. "Do I look like I want to be ranted to right now?" she demanded firmly as she slammed the door, causing Narcissa to tremble slightly.

"No, Bella, but--" Bellatrix was pleased to see her mother heading toward the door, which silenced her sister at once. 

"Bella, I'm going to need you to get dinner ready, your father and I have some errands to run," she instructed. Bella groaned.

"You're leaving me with _them_?"

"I think you can handle it," Druella said with confidence, smiling and ruffling Bellatrix's hair. If there was one thing she enjoyed most about her family, it was being the favorite. Nevertheless, as her parents left the house, Bellatrix felt the oncoming tension of the next few hours with Andromeda.

Bellatrix very much would have liked to cook with magic, but being underage, she wouldn't be allowed to. She lit up the oven manially and was preparing a pheasant when Narcissa pulled on the hem of her robes. "Bella, can I go play outside?" the small girl asked.

Letting out a sigh, Bellatrix said with a flit of her fingers, "Sure, Cissy, just don't stray too far. Stay in the backyard and don't mix with any random Muggle who slips through the wards."

Narcissa skipped gleefully to the back door and let herself out, while Bellatrix put the bird in the oven and began to toss a salad. Darkness was falling quickly, and while Andromeda fortunately kept to herself, not a peep was heard from the youngest Black sister. For an hour, Bellatrix dismissed it, and she was just setting the table when she noticed something rather odd.

Extremely odd.

Bellatrix's sister was visible from the waist up from the kitchen, and at first there seemed to be nothing strange about the little girl running back and forth across the back yard. As Bellatrix moved forward into the dining room table, it became evident that her sister was naked from the waist down.

Narcissa ran barefooted, on tiptoe, to a puddle of water on the yard's edge, dipped her rear end into it, ran over to a puddle of mud, dipped her butt into that too, ran to the porch, sat down firmly on it, stood up and looked backward to smile proudly at the arse-print she'd left, and scuttled over to the water puddle to repeat the process.

Bellatrix abandoned her napkin arranging and thrust open the glass back door. "Cissy, what in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" she snapped irritably, somewhat at the fact that she would probably have to clean the porch, but mostly at the general oddity of the situation.

Narcissa looked up innocently. "Sorry Bella...are you angry?"

"Angry at you for doing something _stupid_. Angry at _me_ for thinking you could do something _not stupid_," Bellatrix drawked, taking Narcissa by her tiny wrist and leading her back into the house.

"Sorry Bella." Narcissa looked down, feeling chagrined.

"You should be. Now tell me, what was the meaning of that?"

"I noticed you were having a bad day, Bella," Narcissa stated, "So I butt-painted the porch for you!"

In an instant, all of Bellatrix's anger dissolved. She looked down at Narcissa, her expression softening, and stroked her sister's hair. "At least someone cares," she muttered. "Come on, Cissy, let's get you rinsed off."

After a second, Narcissa followed Bellatrix up the stairs to the bathroom. "Are you still angry?" she squeaked.

Bellatrix shook her head. "I'm sorry for snapping," she said. "And...thanks." Narcissa beamed as her older sister set her down in the bathtub. Reaching for a bar of soap, Bellatrix couldn't help but laugh. Firstly, it was downright adorable that her kid sister had tried to cheer her up, bizzarre as her attempt was, and second of all, it was hard to stifle laughter when all she could think was, _oh, Merlin, I bet a roli-poli crawled up her butt._

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**A/N: Based on a true story.**


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